Severus Snape's Initiation
by SpanishStark
Summary: The eighteen-year Severus Snape meets the Dark Lord and finally takes the Mark, as he had always wanted, but is confronted with his own demons from his past. [One-shot. Set in late winter of the year 1978.]


The gloomy streets of Spinner's End were left behind when the raven-haired, seventh-year Slytherin vanished into thin air. He landed in uncharted territory, but somehow, he knew that was definitely the arranged location. There was some alluring _je ne sais quoi_ emanating from that place; it was a strange mixture of silence, solitude and dark magic. To Severus' eyes, it looked like some sort of medieval castle in ruins, but he couldn't tell for sure, for it was too dark to see anything. He could, nonetheless, feel a powerful presence that made the hairs on his back stand on edge. He wasn't sure if it was the Dark Lord's sinister aura or mere traces of ancient wizards' magic, but that scenario couldn't possibly be more suitable for the occasion. He was about to take the Dark Mark. About bloody time, he thought, after eighteen years of pain and loneliness in that living hell that was Severus Snape's existence. He had waited more than enough. He had proven himself more than enough. He was still a Hogwarts student, sure, but his dark skills were honed and ready to serve his new liege.

His footsteps echoed through the whole room. It must have been quite big. What he noticed the most was the cold. For a few seconds, he could hear nothing more than his own heartbeat, but it didn't take Severus long to realise he wasn't alone. Someone conjured a greenish fire and suddenly the stony hall was dimly lit. Severus fell to his knees, for he had been met with a pair of reddish eyes. He had immediately acknowledged whom they belonged to, and dropped to the floor, his head down, as a sign of submission.

"Severus… /Snape/," the Dark Lord spoke. His voice sounded cold, surpassing any preconceived ideas Severus could have had. He had never heard a voice like that. The Dark Lord had no need to shout, nor use an aggressive tone. He spoke in a calm manner, almost like Severus himself, as if he were a snake hissing, yet he still sounded dangerous and intimidating, more than anything Severus had met up until this point. The raven-haired Slytherin noticed how the Dark Lord took more time to pronounce his family name, as If it felt heavy on his tongue, as if it were hard to pronounce. There was also a hint of… repulsion? It was obvious he didn't approve the name Snape, not that it surprised Severus. It was a disgrace of a name.

"Blood status?" there came the voice again, this time sounding anxious, commanding, empowered. The Dark Lord wanted an answer and that Severus' cue to speak. He dared to raise his gaze and look at his liege for the first time in his lifetime. The Dark Lord didn't look at all like Severus had expected. He must have been in his late forties or early fifties, yet Severus could clearly tell he had been handsome in his youth. But his face now looked like some sort of mask, it was almost as if it were made of wax. He looked pale and had whitish skin. To an average wizard's eyes, he could have looked ill. But Severus knew better. That's what happens to someone when they meddle with dark magic for long enough.

"Half-blood, my lord," he managed to reply, taking him more than necessary, almost forgetting whom he was talking to, lost in his own thoughts.

"Half-blood," the Dark Lord repeated. Severus lowered his gaze again. _Half-blood_ echoed through the hall again and again. He could have sworn he had heard some sort of sneer and then it struck him that they weren't alone. There were at least half a dozen black-hooded figures around them. One of them looked like a feminine silhouette, and Severus guessed that must have been Bellatrix, and quite possibly the one who sneered. He knew Malfoy and Mulciber would be also amongst them, as they had promised to attend to the initiation. He had no idea about the others.

"Half-blood…" said the Dark Lord again. And when Severus spotted, at the corner of his eye, a swift flick of a wand, he knew at once what was coming. Lucius had already warned him. The sudden movement was met with an indescribable and _absolute_ pain. He could have been deafened by his own screams, had his ears not been blocked by the sound of his guts being torn apart. But even with that, that was nothing Severus couldn't handle. He was oh so used to pain. Almost felt natural to him by now. And physical punishment wasn't half as bad as emotional pain. He had been toughened like steel by brute force during his whole lifetime, for he had had to endure Tobias' beatings for as long as he could remember. There was nothing perennial nor everlasting in physical pain. It didn't last very long, and it was nothing remotely comparable to losing Lily Evans, the only light Severus' life had had. _Those_ kinds of wounds could leave a massive hole in one's soul, the one thing that Cruciatus couldn't reach.

And, just as suddenly as it had begun, the pain stopped. And Severus felt gratified, not by the relieving of his suffering, but because life had then started to make sense. Pain was the true and ultimate expression of life; the one thing that truly made one feel alive. And there was some sort of logic behind it, and behind the Dark Lord using this sort of lacedaemonian educational system. Just like in old Sparta, physical punishments were part of a Death Eater's training. That way the Dark Lord could ensure that only the strong survived, while the weaklings perished. Quite a trial by fire, Severus thought. But he was sure he had passed it. Malfoy had told him how the Dark lord enjoyed torturing his subjects to put their loyalty to the test.

"I have a present for you," he heard the Dark Lord saying, his voice sounding quite distant, yet he was sure his liege was now closer to him. He could almost have kissed his lordly shoes. Assuming he had successfully passed the first trial, Severus dared to look at him again. The Dark Lord was smirking, and there was something dreadful in that expression. Almost cruel. He had no doubts now as to why he was the most feared dark wizard of all time. That wizard was the very same definition of power itself, its epitome. It was absolute, impossible to match. In everything he did, he emanated _power_. And Severus couldn't possibly feel more gratified. He was about to share some of that power, to taste even the smallest bit of it, to take part in something much greater than himself. His life finally had a meaning. He could finally have a place to belong.

"My lord?", Severus asked, unsure of what the Dark Lord meant. He knew according to what Malfoy had said, that the Dark Lord would ask something of him, possibly a crime, to prove his true allegiance, but he was at a loss of what to do next.

"Allow me to introduce you to our most beloved guest," he replied, sounding almost amused. He slithered like a snake around Severus, still kneeled on the cold stone floor. His liege looked at one of the hooded, masked figures, and a lump was dragged and dropped before the raven-haired Slytherin. It wasn't until now that he realised the lump could talk and was actually making sounds. He could hear sobbing that undoubtedly belonged to a woman. " _This_ ," the Dark Lord added, pushing the lump with the tip of his shoe, moving it closer to Severus, "this is a mudblood who wrote an article on why us _wizards_ should marry _muggles_ to avoid extinction. What do you make of that, Severus Snape?"

It made sense, from a scientific point of view, Severus thought, but he could feel the Dark Lord's piercing gaze drilling through his head, and immediately knew he was trying to invade his mind. His walls were up, but they were no match for the Dark Lord. The neophyte allowed his liege to feel his hatred for mudbloods. It was easy once he thought of Lily.

"I think it's insulting," Severus replied, and his answer was received with more sobbing and the Dark Lord's pleased smirk.

"Good. Then deal with _it_ accordingly."

Severus knew at once what had to be done. The Dark Lord wanted that woman dead. That was certain, but it was highly possible that he wanted to witness some torture first. Malfoy had told him that the Dark Lord enjoyed blood almost as much as Bellatrix did. He got back to his feet, slowly, and reached for his wand. For the first time, he actually took a look at the woman. It was difficult to obtain a clear glimpse of her face, for she was constantly shaking and sobbing, but there were two things that were as clear as water: one, she had a pleading look in her eyes, as if she thought he would show mercy on her; and two, she had auburn hair. He couldn't tell for sure due to the darkness surrounding them, but Severus could have sworn that woman looked very much like Lily Evans. They had the same hair, and this one couldn't have been much older than his old childhood friend. Her eyes weren't green, but that didn't matter much. Severus raised his wand, slowly, his hand shaking terribly. He didn't have it in himself to torture her. That, he realised, staring at her eyes. He wasn't a sadist. Certainly not like Bellatrix. If he had to kill, so be it. The world didn't care about him, so he might as well watch it burn. But torture for the sake of it, for the pleasure of it, now that wasn't him. And most definitely not when she reminded him of Evans.

The sobbing became increasingly louder and louder when Severus approached her shaking, sobbing body, his wand now barely inches away from the tip of her nose, her auburn hair cascading all over her face. For a second, she stopped sobbing, and looked at her executioner straight back, as if she wanted to go in a dignified manner.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A flash of green light and the sobbing ceased. She had perished, and he had claimed his first life. And to Severus, it felt as if he had just murdered Lily Evans. Something broke inside him, but it wasn't as bad as he had expected. It had been… liberating. He felt free. As if he had just disposed of some extremely heavy burden he had been carrying in his heart since he was a kid. He had finally let his past behind. He was no more that scared and weak child that was terrified of his father and Potter and his gang, and whose only purpose in life was to beg for the merciful kindness of some filthy _mudblood_ who wasn't worth it. He had just become a man, and a Death Eater too. But there was also another part of him that couldn't help but feeling like a monster. It wasn't as bad, either, for he had always known he was exactly that, a monster. Only difference was that now he had decided to embrace and accept that part of himself, instead of fighting it and refusing to accept it. He had finally become the person – and the wizard – he was supposed to be. But there was still something inside him he hadn't been able to get rid of, something he couldn't tell quite well what it was.

"Efficient," the Dark Lord acknowledged. He didn't look half as pleased as Severus would have liked, but he was still breathing, so that must have meant he had successfully passed the second trial as well. "Some would have thought a bit of punishment to be fitting for the occasion, but I shan't complain You have followed my orders without hesitation, Severus Snape."

The Dark Lord moved closer to Severus, this time with decision, and not just prancing around like a confused and curious doe, wand at the ready.

"Your arm!", he commanded, and Severus knew exactly what was going to happen next. He yielded his left arm to the Dark Lord and his skin burned where the tip of his wand had touched his own skin. The Dark Mark appeared in his left forearm, exactly as Severus had always dreamed.

"You are one of us now, Severus Snape."

And exactly then had Severus realised what that strange feeling from before was. He had always believed joining the Death Eaters and serving the Dark Lord would make him feel happy. But he had finally faced the crude, crushing truth: he didn't feel happy at all, he felt just as empty as always. And that was what that strange feeling was, what had always been: _emptiness_. Something he would never be able to get rid of. Something Lily Evans had stolen from his very soul.


End file.
